C.C. Russell, A History of Indecision

C.C. Russell lives in Wyoming with his wife and daughter. His writing has appeared in such places as Wyvern Lit, Rattle, Word Riot, The Cimarron Review, and The Colorado Review. He has also lived in New York and Ohio.

Overnight, That Beach, That Specific Night

The way that you were that summer. The way that you found yourself wrapped up in that sleeping bag on the beach. The way that you were together. The way that you found yourselves together, wrapped up as you were. The way that you were without him, without her, outside of this. The way that you found yourself waking up cold like that. The way that you were, the way you warmed one another. The way that you found yourself suddenly alone on the sand without a fire, without that heat. The way that you were stopped in your tracks, the way that you were reduced that summer. The way that you found yourself so much less.

The Difference Between Second and Third

(Person)

was the distance.

(Base)

was the proximity.

After We Took Them In

Despite any walls being torn down, despite any small offers of kindness, the survivors still stood in their own circles, still stood apart, watching us hungrily. And who could blame them? After all, what did they know of fire other than to use it for cooking? Oh, the shades of violence that we had yet to teach them, the brilliant paths of destruction.